He looks so precious standing there in my living room, his bashful expression never failing to impress me. But there's something else lying beneath the surface, something that I recognize from my past.
Insecurity.
Apprehension.
He's second guessing himself.
I can't have that.
Compared to Kai, Darius is equivalent to shit on the bottom of my fucking shoe.
Essentially worthless.
I move my hands from his face and let them travel down to his soft chest, lingering there and making eye contact.
"Follow me, Kai."
I swiftly turn around and lead him into the kitchen, pulling out a chair and nodding toward him to take a seat. Like the obedient little puppy he is, he follows my instruction and sits at the table without making a sound.
He's usually shy, but there's something about this particular silence that feels stale.
I don't like it.
I sigh and walk toward the kitchen to pull out the roast duck I prepared from the oven. I slice the pieces in silence, and start to reach for the mashed sweet potatoes when I hear his soft footsteps approaching.
Without looking back at him, I continue separating the breasts and carefully arranging them onto each plate. A scoop of mashed sweet potatoes on each plate.
"C-can I help?"
I turn to look at him and almost swoon. He's softly biting his bottom lip and watching me arrange the plates with a glint in his eye that looks so warm and welcoming that I can barely restrain myself from mounting him like a fucking horse.
I send him a soft smile, "No, Kai. Go sit down."
He sighs softly; I can tell that he wants to help, he probably wants to feel useful after the run in with Darius.
But I have different plans for him.
I hear him walk out of the kitchen and finish serving the sweet mashed potatoes. I pour some maple syrup I bout from the farmers market onto the sweet potatoes and top it with some thyme. I walk to the dining room and set the plates down, then walk back to the kitchen. I pour myself a glass of pinot noir, and a glass of ginger ale for Kai.
He's sitting at the dining table patiently when I return, and it brings a smile on my face. I set down the glass in front of him before taking a seat myself.
I glance at Kai while taking a slow sip of my wine.
"Th-this looks delicious."
I smile at the compliment, setting the glass down and resting my chin in my hands, focusing all my attention on him.
"Why do you stutter, Kai? Do I make you uncomfortable?"
He looks shocked by the question, his food still untouched on the plate before him. He clears his throat and looks down for a few seconds before looking back at me.
"I-I don't mean to. I-I'm so-sorry if it's a turn off..." He trails off, an expression of uncertainty lining his eyes before he looks away from me again.
I toss him a smile. "It's okay Kai, I'm just curious."
He looks up, and there's shock in his eyes.
"I-I was pretty sheltered growing up. I um...Y-you don't make me uncomfortable just...nervous."
I look down at his untouched food and glance back up at him. "I'm glad I don't make you uncomfortable. Eat, Kai."
He nods and we both dig into our food. I'm startled when he moans at the taste, then his head snaps up to meet mine. "S-sorry, it's just so good."
Fucking hell.
He needs to stop before I sit on his face.
"I'm glad you like it."
"I love it."
No stutters. He's beginning to feel more comfortable with me, and for some reason that makes my chest grow warm.
I take a bite of my duck and examine him silently devouring the food I prepared.
He's so fucking precious.
"Why were you sheltered?" I ask, wanting to know more about the young man sitting across from me.
He stops suddenly, looking up at me in alarm, before glancing around the dining room. I can sense his discomfort, but I wait and chew in silence, curious to see if he'll grace me with some background information.
He swallows and clears his throat again, and I glance down at his place surprised to see it almost cleared.
"M-my um...My parents died when I was young. I was r-raised by my grandparents. They ho-home schooled me."
I nod at his answer, understanding how something like that could impact a person.
"So you haven't had much experience with others?" I take one final bite and finish my meal, pushing my plate in front of me so I can focus on my wine.
He shrugs and smiles sheepishly, avoiding my eyes. "N-no. I'm really ba-bad at talking."
"I think you're doing great Kai."
Again, theres that astonishment in his eyes when he looks at me, as if he can't believe I said something as simple as 'you're doing great'.
"R-really?" He asks, bashfully looking down at his empty plate before meeting my eyes again.
I smile and nod.
"Yes really. I enjoy your company."
The smile I get in return is a shimmering intensity, and I want to fucking bask in the sunshine seeping out of his skin.
"Thank you." He whispers out.
Not a single stutter.
I smile in pride.
"No, Kai. Thank you."
I watch as the blush rises on his cheeks and he once again avoids my gaze, grasping the glass of ginger ale in a hard grip and taking a deep gulp.
"W-what about you, Mis-mistress? What was your childhood like?" His voice comes out as a whisper, and normally it would make me smile, but the question throws me for a loop.
The past and present clients I have are based entirely on business. The past relationships I've had – if you could even call it that – were based on mutual release. The subs I have had in the past were based on agreements and strict contracts. There was no small talk, there was no delving into each other's pasts. It was just a consolidation of pain and pleasure. Nothing more, nothing less.
His question has me pausing, tension rising to my shoulders.
My childhood?
How do I describe something so grotesque? Something so...sad?
The boy sitting across from me deserves nothing but light and honesty and...love. All things I couldn't possibly provide him with.
My past is a part of me, it has made me who I am. And I am no good.
I take a tentative sip from my wine to in a thinly veiled attempt to stall. I pride in control, and he has unconsciously stripped me of mine with a few stuttered words. It doesn't matter if the loss is temporary, the fact that it existed at all feels crippling.
"My childhood was...dark. No more questions about me, Kai."
The stern timber of my voice communicates to him my desire to shift away from the topic, and being the observant boy he is, he understands. There are a few moments of quiet and contemplation. I can sense his nerves rising and I pull from the energy, allowing it to feed me and slowly rebuild the infinitesimal amount of control I lost.
"U-um. Can I say something?" His voice fills the space and I hum, standing to clear our plates from the table.
"Of course, Kai." I answer while placing the plates in the sink for Darius to clean up later.
He doesn't speak until I return to the dining room table to take my seat again, pulling the wine glass to my lips and sucking down the rest of the wine. Kai watches earnestly, and I can't help but enjoy the way his eyes are glued to my lips.
He gulps and I watch his Adams apple bob up and down. He clears his throat.
"Y-you're gorgeous."
I pause on my way to placing the wine glass onto the table.
It's strange, really it is. But no one has ever called me gorgeous.
Beautiful, yes.
Sexy, yes.
Hot, yes.
But the way he said it felt so close to my heart, it warmed me inside. I could feel the honesty in his words, I could tell that he meant everything.
"Thank you, Kai." I could barely keep my shit together.
Fucking hell.
Before I decide to jump his fucking bones, I decide to head toward the living room.
"Come with me." I don't leave room for doubt and start sashaying my way toward the couch, hearing Kai's soft footsteps following me.
I settle into the couch and turn to face him, watching as he sat beside me, a maroon blush working it's way up his cheeks.
"What are you thinking about, Kai?"
The question is technically redundant, because I know exactly what he's thinking.
He shifts around a bit before glancing back at me with hooded eyes.
"N-nothing?"
It comes out as a question and I smile in response, scooting closer to him.
"Are you sure?" I ask, my breath tickling his right cheek.
Again, he gulps. But the question that follows throws me for a loop.
"Will you kiss me again?" I can't hold back the smirk, wondering where the bout of confidence came from, but loving it.
"Soon. We need to talk first."
His face falls, and before he can start receding too far into his head, I grasp his hand in mine.
"I-I'm sorry if I'm not enough. I know I'm not as f-fit as D-Da-"
I stop him before he continues, slightly annoyed at the direction this conversation is going.
"Stop. Darius is nothing. He's more like my maid than anything else. Stop fucking thinking about him."
I didn't want it to come out so harshly, but I couldn't help it. I hate the fact that he's thinking of himself like this.
"B-but-"
"No," I interrupt before he has a chance to continue. "You are more than enough. Did I not show you how wet you make me?"
His blush returns once again and I can see right through him; I can tell exactly what he's thinking.
"Are you picturing me on top of you?" I ask, sidling closer to him and basking in the heat emanating from him. His cheeks turn darker and his eyes lock on my lips.
"Not yet, Kai." I break him out of his spell and move back, feeling the need to get back to business so I can jump his bones.
"R-right. Of course." He settles himself back into the couch and moves his hands to cover his crotch, as if he's being sly. But he's not, I can see the bulge in his pants, I can almost feel him writhing beneath me in desperation...
Fucking hell, Valencia. Focus.
"We need to talk about limits. I would have prepared a contract, but it's your first time doing any of this and I don't want to alarm you."
He blinks a few times, curiosity seeping from his skin.
"W-what?"
I can't stop the smile from caressing my face and I move closer to him.
"What are your limits. What don't you want me to do to you?"
He grips his crotch tightly and slides farther into the corner of the couch.
"U-um. I don't know..." He slumps further into the couch, and I watch every move he makes.
"How are you with pain?"
I watch his Adams apple bob again as he struggles to take a breath.
"U-um...good, I think?"
I scoot closer to him and grasp his thigh in my hand.
"Are you willing to test your limits with me?" I ask softly, stroking his thigh.
His eyes are flickering back and forth between my eyes and my lips, and I find myself tugging at my own, eager to feel him on me.
"Yes." He whispers, not a single thread of hesitance in his tone.
I love it.
"Choose a safe word."
I worry that he doesn't know the term, but he surprises me by placing his hand over my own on his thigh.
I hate being touched.
Well, usually.
I demand control, I need it. I control who touches me and when.
But with him...
With him, I find myself wanting him to touch more of me.
And it...
It scares me.
But I want more.
"Purple." He whispers out, and I can tell that it's a tentative response. He knows the meaning of safe words, yet he feels hesitant at the same time. But for some reason, I can tell that he's not reluctant to explore what I have in store. It's more like he's....tentative. Unsure of what's coming next.
I fucking love it.
Just like I fucking love the feeling of his hand on his hand on my thigh.
The things I want to do with this man are...sinful. Unabashed. Primal.
I take a deep breath before responding.
"Purple for you will mean stop. Pink will mean that you are reaching your limits. White will mean that you want more of what I'm giving to you. Do you understand?"
The Domme in me is in full control. I am demanding full obedience.
And from the look in his expression, the way that his mouth parts, the way that his soft pink lips.
"Y-yes. Yes Mistress, I understand."
If I could have, I would. But I couldn't stop the smile from reaching my face.
Such a sweet fucking boy.
Such a sweet boy I couldn't wait to fucking destroy.
I stand from the couch and reach out toward his hand. Without hesitation, he grasps mine and stands to his feet, the few inches he has on me proving invigorating.
All the better to fuck him with, my dear.
I pull him toward the direction I want him, watching in angst as he follows behind me obediently.
I lead him toward my room, already prepared for what's coming next.
I just hope that he can handle it.
But another, sinfully immoral part of me hopes that he will beg for my mercy if he can't.